My Beloved, Pastor Fred
by Jeuxdevie
Summary: Almost sixty years after they last met, Edward Cullen finds out his ex-boyfriend Fred Felps has become a preacher of hate. Edward travels to Alamo to meet him again, and to find answers...
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer 1: I do not own Twilight. This story was written for entertainment purposes only. I do not make any money out of this story._

_Disclaimer 2: This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people and events are to be considered coincidental. Yeah..._

* * *

"God hates Forks, Washington, land of the vile homosexual! The pansies and the queers of Forks are drowning. The water of God's wrath is sending hundreds of those filthy homo beasts straight to hell!"

Do these words sound familiar? You probably wouldn't need to second-guess that these are the words of Pastor Fred Felps, of the Lansboro Baptist Church. To America and to everyone else, he is notorious for this kind of language and for his doctrine of malice. The whole world hates him, curses him, wishes death upon him. For them, he brings no good upon this world, and, perhaps, they are right to think so.

Not everyone knows that he wasn't always like that. I knew Fred Felps, and the Fred Felps I knew was a kind, gentle and beautiful man. But then, somewhere along the way, he transformed into this ugly raving lunatic, and I know not how. I need answers; I need to know why...

My name is Edward Cullen, and this is our story.

**My Beloved, Pastor Fred**  
by: Jeuxdevie

It has always been rainy in the town of Forks, where I now live, for as long as I could remember. However, during the past week, the downpour had been exceptionally heavy. According to news reports, a month's worth of precipitation had fallen within 24 hours. In some areas, the floods reached twelve feet in height, drowning houses, livestock, people. So far, there are more than a hundred known dead, and even more unaccounted for. Scientists blame it on climate change. Doomsayers preach that the world is about to end, and call for the repentance of sinners.

To me, it's just another day on Earth. When you exist with your mind intact for over a hundred years, you tend to observe that rainy days simply come and go, and catastrophes like this that seem to have never happened in history actually occur on a regular basis. Floods and deaths are just another consequence of existing on this planet. But humans are forgetful, and who can blame them? Most of them die within eighty years, with their minds slowly degrading in their journey to never-ending non-existence. Few bother to record their experiences, and, from among those who do, their notes become destroyed, forgotten, in floods such as this. Humans are fragile. Humans, as a species, never learn.

But I am not a human. I am a vampire.

My family and I remained safe during the flood. Alice, my sister, able to see the future, warned us of the catastrophe before the clouds became gray, while my adoptive father, Carlisle Cullen, promptly negotiated the purchase of a magnificent villa on a stable cliff. It wasn't difficult at all. Through the years, we had amassed billions of dollars in wealth, so paying for our new home was not a problem. Furthermore, we were all vampires, unusually attractive and charming, and the negotiations were won within a day.

Of course, being vampires, we wouldn't have been destroyed in a mere flood; but we had no desire to be drenched either.

While the rains continue to pour outside, foretelling the demise of possibly dozens more humans, my adoptive siblings and I take advantage of the suspension of classes to immerse ourselves in more interesting pursuits. My brother Emmett and his wife Rosalie spend the entire day in their room, presumably writing poetry, while Alice and her husband Jasper relax in the living room with their new computers. Meanwhile, I stretch out on the sofa and read a book.

Alice, vivacious that she is, is quite prone to giggling, so I am not surprised to hear her snickering as she watches a video on YouTube. "Hey, Jas," I hear her say to her husband, "take a look at this." I peek to see her hand him a pair of earphones. Then, surprisingly, Jasper, for all his seriousness, laughs. That arouses my curiosity, and I look in their direction. As though on cue, Alice calls to me.

"Eddie, come, check this out! What a loon!"

I go to them and take the earphones from Jasper. Alice had dragged the slider to the beginning of the video. As soon as I put on the earphones, she presses _play_.

A loud and clear voice booms: "Thank God for the Forks, Washington flood! Thank God for His righteous judgment upon this evil land of homos and homo-enablers! America, land of the homosexual damned! Just like in the days of Noah, the God Almighty, in His infinite justice, has once again poured down His waters upon the land, by the millions of gallons, to cleanse and purge the Earth of its wretched sinners and queers!"

I feel sick in the stomach. With my peripheral vision, I could see Alice and Jasper embracing each other and laughing their hearts out. I did not laugh with them. I could not even smile.

The person in the video is an old preacher, about eighty years old, gaunt and wrinkled, and wearing a white cowboy hat. He is delivering an angry sermon on YouTube, and he continues with this: "For many years, Lansboro Baptist Church has warned that your sins will be avenged by God unless you repent and turn away from your homosexual ways, but you did not heed our words. You laughed at us, mocked us, called us names, and even vandalized our church! Well, who's laughing now, you nincompoops?

"One hundred and seventy-five dead, as of the last count; one hundred and seventy-five sinners now burning in hell! We at Lansboro Baptist Church rejoice, not grieve, in the vengeance of God, and we pray that the dear Lord drown many more of you and send you to hell, where you all belong! Amen."

Alice and Jasper are now crying in laughter.

"Isn't he just the craziest?" she giggles.

I remove the earphones. "I have to go," I say, and run away as fast as I can.

Those fiery eyes. That chiseled jaw. And, of course, the name. I recognize the name. _Fred Felps_. He has grown older since I last saw him, but, still, it was unmistakably _him_. If not for his ugly words, I would've also thought he was beautiful, just like before. Oh, but he was still beautiful!

I know what I have to do. I know where I have to go.

-x-x-x-

1918. I was then seventeen years old, and dying of Spanish influenza. The epidemic would later on kill as many as 50 million people from around the world. I would have been one of the dead, if it hadn't been for Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He saved me, by turning me into a vampire.

Since then, I no longer aged. Death lost its grip upon me, and I have been, physically, seventeen for almost a hundred years. My mind and body have not only remained fresh and strong, but their capabilities have also been enhanced by vampirism. I am far faster, stronger, more dexterous than any human being who has ever lived. I have also acquired the power to read minds, an ability unique even among vampires.

Of course, there were also disadvantages to being a vampire. In order to survive, a vampire has to drink blood. A vampire _lusts_ for blood. Many of my fellow vampires choose to take the easy way out, and partake of the blood of innocent humans. Thankfully, Carlisle has taught us to drink the blood of animals. It is not, I presume, as delicious as the blood of humans, but it allows us to survive just the same.

And then, there are other things...

-x-x-x-

Fast forward twenty years: 1938. 5 PM. I happened upon a group of noisy schoolchildren in an alley in Alamo, Texas. I was on a journey then, and, in the years I had by far existed, I was used to finding the oddest groups of the oddest people. I was also used to leaving them alone to mind their own business, whatever it may be. There was nothing intrinsically unusual about a group of noisy schoolchildren, of course, even if it was a quartet of bullies ganging up on a smaller boy; yet this particular group, or, rather, this particular boy, aroused my interest. I sniffed the air, quietly hid behind a pile of boxes nearby, and watched.

The boy was curled up on the ground, desperately covering his head and crying out for his mother. The bullies laughed and taunted him and called him names, as they kicked and stomped on him repeatedly. Their actions inflicted wounds upon his skin. His blood smelled intoxicating.

One of the bullies snatched the little boy's backpack and spilled its contents. "What's this?" he said, picking up a book. "The art of flower arranging? What are you, a pansy? Hey, look, guys! Freddie girl here likes to read the art of flower arranging! Isn't he a homo?" The other boys laughed.

They gurgled their saliva and spat on him. I strained to find out what he was thinking at the moment, but, for some reason, I couldn't read his mind! The discovery alarmed me. Up to that point, I thought could read anyone's mind!

"What do you think, guys? What should we do with this pansy-wansy?"

The leader of the gang, the largest of the group, answered. "I think we should give Freddie here a favor and make him into a girl, just as he wants!" He took a knife out of his pockets, while the other boys restrained Freddie and began to undress him. Without having to read the bullies' minds, I realized in horror what they were going to do to him. Freddie must have realized it too, for he thrashed and panicked even more.

"Oh my God!" he cried out. "Oh God! Help me, please! Help me! God! Help!"

Hesitating no longer, I sprang from my hiding place and grabbed the bullies, two in each hand. Before they even figured out what was happening, I threw them as far away as I could, until I could no longer hear their disgusting thoughts. Then, I bent over the little boy, who was still shivering on the ground. I touched his neck for but a moment, just to feel his pulse; any second longer and I would have been tempted to bite it, and to drink his blood.

When I was sure he was going to survive, I quickly turned to leave. Then, I heard a shuffle behind me, and a squeaky "Wait." I stopped where I was, keeping my back at him.

"I haven't thanked you yet for saving me," he said, "so, thank you."

"You're welcome," I replied. "It's the least I could do."

"Are you an angel?"

I thought for a while. "Perhaps, if that is what you want to believe."

"Then you are an angel!" he cried out, with a twinkle in his voice. "Thank you so much, sir! And thank God for sending you!"

Before he could make another step toward me, I ran as fast as I could, out of his sight, to the uppermost floor of a nearby building. He must have thought I had flown to heaven, for he knelt to the ground in prayer, gazing up with tearful eyes at the sky. For some reason, I smiled.

And that was how I met Fred Felps.

_(to be continued)_


	2. Chapter 2

Jumping from one tree to another, leaping from one car roof to the next, I make it to Texas in less than an hour, even if it is one thousand five hundred miles away from Washington. I sniff the air. It smells so... different. Where the fresh aroma of gunpowder and equine fecal matter used to be sixty years ago, there is now carbon monoxide and cyanide and small traces of methamphetamine. The air is one nasty stinking soup of chemicals that is slowly and surely killing the people that breathe in it.

I wonder... _Did the air have something to do with Fred's changed mentality? Has his brain been hopelessly altered by the chemical soup that he now breathes? Is he now beyond reason? Am I wasting my time?_ These questions plague my mind as I slink into Hidalgo, then into Alamo. I emerge from the shadows, straighten my back, and walk the roads as a respectable gentleman. Now I have to find Fred. But where do I start?

-x-x-x-

Since the day I first met him, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, was I obsessed! Hard as I tried, I couldn't get him out of my mind. I did not get a very good look at his face, but, Zeus! His smell was magnificent! Furthermore, he was the only person I have met whose mind I could not read. The most special boy in the world- nay, in the universe. That was him. _Fred Felps._

For many years, I was like this, like a zombie. I spent whole days in my bed, hugging and squeezing my pillow, just thinking about him, him, and nothing but him. I was intoxicated with thoughts of him. I no longer spent hours on the piano, composing songs and writing poetry. I no longer lounged at the living room, reading novels and writing my own. That chance meeting at the alley was my destiny, and it changed me. I knew it. Everyone I knew saw it. Naturally, they were concerned.

"So, what happened?" Carlisle asked me one day.

"I think... I think I'm in love," said I.

He leaned closer to me, and placed his arm around my waist. "With whom?" he whispered. "What's the name of this lucky person?"

I turned, and gazed at his face. There was a smile on his mouth. I almost cried. "With... with someone whose name I do not know."

Carlisle had tears in his eyes. He took his arm away and placed it on his lap. For a minute, there was silence. And then, he spoke, "Well, why don't you try to find out?"

And find out I did. With Carlisle's resources and my ingenuity, it wasn't long before I learned the name of the special boy was Fred Felps. He was a fine arts student in Texas Christian College. It was now ten years after we first met; we are now, physically, about the same age.

The very next day, I enrolled at the same college, in the same degree. It was easy with Carlisle pulling at his connections and modifying my records. I was able to convince the board of admissions that I was a teenager with a high school diploma, even if I hadn't been to a high school in decades. On my first day at school, I immediately began looking for Fred. It was easy picking him out from among a throng of students whose obscene thoughts I could easily read, and whose foul smells were no better than garbage. I caught sight of him, of my luscious Fred, in the flower-arranging club room. He was the only male in that room, and he was among many pretty women, but, Zeus! Was he the most beautiful creature among them!

Those fiery eyes! That chiseled jaw! That smooth pale skin! And that soft silky hair! The crowd was all that stopped me from leaping at him and taking him at that very moment. I felt something stirring to life at my hips, a lovely feeling I had not experienced for so many years.

Calming myself, I strode into the room with all the confidence I could muster. "Good day," I said. Everyone's eyes were on me. I heard the women's lustful thoughts. I felt disgust, but kept my calm. "This is the flower-arranging club, I presume?" I did not take my eyes off Fred.

"Yes," he replied. "What do you want?" He did not smile. He looked angry. A few peeks into the minds of the ladies revealed that testosterone-inflamed bullies often disrupted the club to pick on Fred, and I presumed Fred thought I was just another one of them.

"I want to join," I said. "I've always been interested in flower-arranging but I've never found venue to practice it." Some ladies became excited, while others became dismayed. I thought I heard the words "fruitcake" and "homo" and "what a waste of a handsome man" erupt from their minds. I ignored them.

At my declaration, Fred's demeanor immediately changed. He smiled. Oh, how I almost melted from that smile!

"Thank God, we have another man in our club," said he, as he approached me. "As you can see, we don't have too many men here, so having another one is a breath of fresh air." When we were face-to-face with one another (he was about as tall as I was), he extended his hand. "My name is Fred Felps."

_I know_, I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth closed, and took his hand. His skin was so smooth, like it was lathered in lotion every hour. "Edward Cullen. A pleasure to meet you." I kept his hand in mine a bit longer than what etiquette dictated, and smiled suggestively at him. He smiled back the same way. At that moment, I knew that we had an understanding. He was mine, and I was his.

-x-x-x-

By reading other people's minds for directions, I find the Lansboro Baptist Church. A large compound near a corn field in Alamo, with vibrant rainbow-colored letters "GOD HATES HOMOS" posted at the gate, it isn't exactly hard to miss. Neighbors, pedestrians and curious onlookers would look at the place in disgust, and, for good reason, avoid it. All of them have murderous thoughts in their head, but, since the Lansboro Baptist Church is protected by law, they could not act on their desires.

It is nighttime now, and people are about to go to bed. I focus my hearing at this curious church. I catch a few words here and there, but, for the most part, I hear nothing but silence.

And then, midnight comes. I notice a soft "click," and then footsteps. I struggle to read the mind of the person making these footsteps; I could not. If my heart were still functioning, it would be beating so fast right now. I run as fast and as quietly as only a vampire could, into the churchyard. Anticipating the footsteps, I climb up a nearby tree. The roof of the church is very visible from where I am.

A rooftop door opens. An old man emerges from the opening. I bite my lip. _Those fiery eyes! That chiseled jaw!_ It is him, all right. _Fred Felps._

_Finally, I see you again, my love._

-x-x-x-

Since the first time we shook hands, the relationship between Fred and me blossomed from a deep friendship into something more... torrid. We embraced, we kissed, and, every night, when we were sure the dormitory managers had fallen asleep, we made love. We made love at every opportunity. I took him to places he had never been to - to mountaintops, to the forests, to lakesides and valleys and hills. Each time, we would tear each other's clothes off and explore each other's bodies for several hours. Fred often told me that he found warmth in my oddly cold skin. Those were the best years of my life.

The night before our graduation, Fred and I were lying on a meadow, naked. We had just finished making love, and were gazing up at the stars. I was thinking about the future. Fred seemed to have read my mind.

"There are so many things that I want to do after graduation," he said. "I want to build my own flower and fashion business. I want to design for parties and weddings. I also want to write a book about Jesus - not the hateful Jesus they tell us about in class, but the loving Jesus I know in my heart, the Jesus who would love and accept people for whoever they are. And, someday, I want to marry you."

Those words took me aback. He gazed at me, smiling. I gazed back at him, too, but my eyes were too filled with tears for me to see properly. I felt so much joy!

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Will they let us?" I answered.

He chuckled. "Does it matter? If two people know in their hearts that they are each other's spouses, then that's good enough. Of course, if the law recognizes it, then that would be better. But, at the end of the day, it's the love between two people that would dictate the truth."

I smiled. It was another thing that I loved about Fred: his wisdom beyond his years. I responded, "Then, yes, Fred Felps, I will marry you."

I took him into my arms, and we kissed. We rolled on the grass, kissing and rubbing and giggling, for several minutes until we were exhausted. Fred looked at my face and said, "You know, I just noticed you don't seem to grow old. What's your secret?"

Of course, I have never told him I was a vampire. I never told him that each time we met, I struggled to not kill him. I never knew how he would react if he found out, and I was too frightened to lose my happiness. I don't know if the thought ever crossed his mind; but Fred, being a man of faith, tended not to question. I knew that he trusted me, with every fiber of his being.

Not to mention, if he learned that I was a vampire... there would be consequences. Vampire law dictated that a human should never learn of the existence of vampires. Either he would have to be turned, or be killed. Although I did not want Fred to die, although I wanted to spend every minute of my existence with him, I did not want to turn him into a vampire either. I struggled with my vampirism every single day. It was no blessing; it was a curse. I had already forgiven Carlisle for turning me into a vampire, but I did not want to impose that burden upon my beloved Fred.

"Oil of olay, applied once every evening," I lied.

He giggled. "Then I must have some of that oil of olay. Oh, Edward. I love you so much. We're going to be so happy together. We're going to grow old together."

"Yes, my love. Yes, we will." Another lie.

I've never felt so guilty in my entire existence.

_(to be continued)_


End file.
